Shocking Consequences
by AnchorRed
Summary: Tag to episode 4x08 "Wishful Thinking". This is the aftereffects of what happened to Sam. What if things weren't fixed quite so easily, and what would Dean have thought about it? This is an alternate ending. I've tweaked it a bit, so it varies a little from how the show actually happened. And I know they weren't close with Cas yet, but this is how I wanted it to go.


Sam felt something rough pressing into his right cheek. His whole body ached, even though he wasn't moving at all. He wondered how much worse he would feel if he actually _did_ move. He didn't want to even think about it.

It was dark, too dark to make out even the vaguest of shapes. Although, the darkness was a bit…off. It had a reddish tinge to it. He went to blink, only to realize he had his eyes closed. That would explain it. He opened them cautiously, blinking as he adjusted to the bright sunlight glaring down at him.

His whole world was tilted and he felt his body pressed to the unforgiving sidewalk below him. He had no idea why he was just laying down on the ground. He couldn't remember anything, only that they were on their way to retrieve the coin from the well. Dean rushed ahead, and then…nothing.

He slowly sat up, his body protesting every movement. He winced and held back a groan as pain blossomed from his upper back and spread through his chest. His limbs felt heavy and sluggish and he wanted nothing more than to just lay back down and go to sleep. He knew he couldn't, though. He needed to find Dean and finish the case.

Once upright, he quickly took stock of his body, looking himself over. He seemed okay. Other than the deep aches he felt, he seemed fine physically. Nothing seemed broken. Confused as he was, he just shrugged. He'd live.

He did notice, however, that his shoes seemed to be missing. He raised an eyebrow, wondering how the crap that had happened. He looked and spotted them a couple feet away, strewn haphazardly the way Dean would toss his boots off after checking into a hotel for the night.

He reached over and grabbed them, the action sending fresh pain coursing through his torso. He paused for a second to catch his breath as it stuttered in his throat, eyes scrunching through the pain. After a couple of seconds, he managed a deep breath and steeled himself as he reached the rest of the way for the shoes.

He put them on, his fingers working slowly and numbly as he fumbled with the laces. He was just finishing the last bow when Dean walked out of the restaurant, alert eyes scanning his surroundings until they lowered and settled on Sam. He raised an eyebrow in question.

"It takes you ten minutes to tie your shoes? Thanks for the help in there, Sam," he said with a bit of annoyance at his lazy brother.

Sam just shrugged, then as an afterthought, he asked, "Did you get it?"

"Yep," Dean answered, patting his jacket pocket where the coin was stashed away.

Dean took a second to really look his brother over. He seemed too quiet and he couldn't understand why he just sat there on the pavement looking a little dazed. His eyes scanned him over, his gaze resting on the side of his brother's head. There was a small patch of bloodied hair matted up on the side.

"What happened to your head, Sammy?" Dean asked, hurrying to his brother's side and kneeling beside him.

Sam looked at him with a look of confusion and brought his hand up to touch his head. He felt a wetness and his hand came away bloody. His eyes widened at the sight. He hadn't even noticed that he'd hurt his head, but now that his brain was aware of it, he felt the pain wash over him. He winced at the pounding he felt in his skull.

"I dunno. Maybe I fell?" he said hesitantly. Dean looked at him appraisingly.

"Fell? Hmm, tripped over those big feet of yours, more like," he said lightly, hiding his concern as to why Sam was acting so out of it. He shook his head, figuring that he'd worry about that later, once they get back to the hotel. With the case done, they had the rest of the day to themselves.

"Alright, up and at 'em," Dean said, standing up and reaching a hand down for Sam. Sam looked at it for a couple seconds before grabbing it and allowing Dean to help pull him to his feet. Pain erupted through his core and his head swam. He held back a groan.

Once up, he staggered, but Dean was quick to reach out and steady him. "Whoa, whoa, you alright, man?"

Sam nodded and brushed Dean away. Dean eyed him before heading to the Impala, keeping a slower pace than normal since Sam seemed a bit sluggish. He watched him through the corner of his eye the whole way, making sure he wasn't going to topple over.

Once inside the car, Dean took off toward the hotel. There was only the sound of Dean's music playing softly from the speakers and Dean tapping along to the beat on the steering wheel. Sam sat with his head leaning against the window, his eyes half shut.

They reached their destination soon enough. Dean told Sam to go ahead inside while he grabbed their bags and first aid kit. He'd noticed how exhausted his brother seemed.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder and slamming the trunk closed, he made his way inside, ready to patch up the cut on Sammy's head.

"Alright, Sam, let's…" he trailed off, seeing his brother fast asleep on one of the beds. Concern wormed its way through his chest. It was only late afternoon and Sam didn't usually take naps. Something was up.

Setting the bags down, he strode over to his brother and felt his forehead. No fever. Shrugging, he pulled off Sam's shoes before moving to take off his jacket. He gently slid his brother's arms through the sleeves and pulled it off, and that's when his heart plummeted.

Right in the center of the jack was a large hole with singed edges. Dean stared at it in shock, wondering what in the world had happened.

"Sammy!" he said loudly, tossing the jacket aside and shaking his brother. Sam didn't even twitch. "SAM!" he yelled, but got no response.

Heart pounding, he began removing Sam's flannel and then his tee, both of which also had ragged holes burned into them. Once the shirts were gone, he gently turned Sam on his side and took a breath, afraid of what he might see. He could only imagine what kind of damage would be there. Why hadn't he noticed anything sooner? What if he was _dying_?

He finally looked, his eyes raking over his little brother, only to see….well, not much. There was an area of his skin that was a bit pinker than the rest. It looked fresh and sensitive, but that was it. No blood. No gaping wound. He let out a breath in relief.

But then, if he wasn't dying, why wouldn't he wake? Grabbing a penlight from the first aid kit, he quickly tested Sam's pupils, but they reacted fine. The cut wasn't even that bad, it had just bled a lot, which is to be expected of head wounds, anyway.

He cupped his brother's cheeks in his hands.

"Sam? Can you hear me? I don't know what's going on, man, but I really need you to wake up," he said, a bit of desperation slipping into his voice. He got nothing.

His heart was pounding, his palms were sweating, and he didn't have a clue what to do. He paced the floor with his hand running though his hair in frustration. He sighed, desperate.

"Castiel? Can you hear me? I can really use your help now, man. Please, Cas," he said softly, looking around him in expectation. There was no swooshing of angel wings. Nothing. He looked down, trying to figure out what to do next.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean whipped around quickly, coming face to face with the angel he'd hoped would come.

"Cas! Cas, I don't know what happened, but you've gotta help Sam. I don't know what to do," Dean pleaded.

Cas just looked at him, his blue eyes piercing as he gazed at him, a look of uncertainty on his face. He sighed.

"I really shouldn't help the abomination, but he seems to be important to you," Castiel answered.

Dean spared a moment to glare at the angel before showing Cas the mark on his brother's back and also explaining the case they'd just finished, trying to be as helpful as possible.

Cas reached out and touched the pink skin, lightly trailing his fingers across it. He then reached out two fingers to press to Sam's forehead. There was a blueish glow before it quickly faded and he dropped his hand back to his side and stepped back.

"There. I should go. I have things to do," Castiel said.

Dean reached out and grabbed his arm.

"No! You have to tell me about my brother! What happened? Is he okay?" Dean rushed.

Cas sighed again.

"He appears to have been struck by some high voltage of some sort. Most likely, that coin of yours had something to do with it. The damage is consistent with a lightning strike," he answered bluntly.

" _What_?! You're saying that my brother was _struck by lightning_?" Dean said incredulously.

"The damage to the heart and organs would suggest that, yes," he answered, unblinkingly.

"You fixed it right? Tell me you fixed him."

Castiel shook his head. "No, I didn't need to. It looks to me that whenever the coin was removed, it reversed any wishes it had granted, thus fixing your brother and bringing him back to life."

Dean's mouth gaped open and his legs gave out. He stumbled back and fell onto the other bed, unable to process what he'd just heard. Sam had _died_? _Again_? How could he have not known that? He felt like a horrible big brother to not know that his little brother had died and he didn't even have a clue.

"He died? Is he okay now?" he said, looking up at the angel hopefully.

"Yes, he will be. Once the coin was removed, he was brought back and healed. He will be sore and a bit weak and tired for a couple of days, but he won't have any lasting damage. I did, though, go ahead and heal the cut on his forehead."

Dean frowned. "Why wouldn't that have been fixed along with the rest of it?"

"I would guess that the cut was a result of him falling to the ground after the strike, not from the actual wish at all. The coin would only fix what it directly caused, so I took the liberty of doing so. I can't, however, fix his clothes," he said, gesturing to the shirt and jacket piled on the floor. "I am afraid they are beyond repair."

Dean snorted. "Those can be replaced." There was a pause. "Do you think he suffered? I mean, when it happened, was it bad?" he asked quietly, his eyes filled with concern.

"No, I don't think so. I think it would have happened so quickly that he barely had time to register that it happened at all. He'll be fine, Dean," he added reassuringly.

Dean nodded. It made sense. Sam hadn't seemed to understand what had happened any more than he did.

It was silent for a few moments, both men standing and watching Sam sleep peacefully.

"Well, I should get going. Give me the coin and I can dispose of it for you," Castiel said, extending his palm to Dean.

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the small piece of metal. It was hard to imagine that such a small thing could be capable of being so evil. He dropped it in Castiel's hand and the angel curled his fingers tightly around it.

"Cas?" Dean said hesitantly. The blue-eyed man met his gaze. "Thanks."

There was a brief pause.

"You're welcome Dean," he answered, and in a flutter, he was gone.

Dean got a wash cloth and wiped the blood from the side of his brother's face and hair. He found the cut itself to be gone, just as the angel had promised. He gently pulled the blankets over his sleeping brother and watched him for a moment, glad that he still had him, that he hadn't lost him all over again.

Pulling up a chair, Dean sat beside his brother, half his attention on the TV with the volume turned down low, and the other half on his little brother.


End file.
